It’s possible I’ve never messed up anything more than I did last night.

It took me a solid quarter mile of sprinting down Essex Street for my brain to untangle what happened on the roof. She wasn’t a painting come to life. She wasn’t a mermaid. She was a person. A girl with red hair and stormy gray eyes and skin that glowed in the moonlight.

It sounds like I’m describing a magical princess from a fairy tale. She was a genuinely beautiful girl. But that’s all she was. A girl.

As I reached the Morgans’ street, I was hit with the sudden realization that when I asked for a sign, my mother’s favorite symbol materialized out of thin air. I didn’t just see the mermaid painting; I saw the mermaid’s doppelgänger appear in front of me. If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.

And like a dummy, I ran from it.

My mom always told me to watch for signs, but she never told me what to do with one once I saw it. Hopefully the universe is up for second chances.

For some reason, I am supposed to see that girl. She has something to do with why I’m here, I’m sure of it. The problem is I have no idea how to track her down. How does one find a girl who was on the rooftop of a house you were not supposed to be inside in the first place? She’d come from inside the house, which means she had access to it. She’s too young to be the owner, but maybe she’s related to the owner? Or maybe a house sitter of some sort? Do I ask Simon? Hang out around the house until she comes back? What if someone tells Simon and Emma that I was there?

Now I’m stressed, so I do what I always do when I feel anxiety swirling through me—I reach for my notebook in my back pocket, but—

A cold dread spreads across my chest.

No.

My panicked hand searches frantically through my backpack, fingers hoping to brush against the familiar feel of its worn cover. I dump everything out on my bed. Binoculars, pens, book, soda. Everything but the thing I need most.

The realization hits me so hard, I nearly double over.

I left my notebook on the witch’s roof.